


In the In-Between

by t_writes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Abuse, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Gaslighting, Happy Ending, Kevin Day Needs A Hug, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, but it's okay!, it's all very fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29124216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_writes/pseuds/t_writes
Summary: Kevin Day struggles to reconcile the future he'd always imagined with the reality of life after leaving Edgar Allan. Neil and Andrew help.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day/Neil Josten, Kevin Day/Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 11
Kudos: 56
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	In the In-Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetic_ivy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_ivy/gifts).



> Part of the AFTG Mixtape Fic Exchange, for poetic_ivy!! I really hope you like it 🦋
> 
> Song: yes & no by XYLO
> 
> "I don't have the answers you need  
> 'Cause I live in the in-between  
> So if you put your bets on me  
> You better be down for anything"
> 
> PS: let me know if there are any tags I missed!

Palmetto State University’s career counseling office uses the same brand of astringent disinfectant as the Nest. It’s the only place on campus that uses it and Kevin only notices because it’s a smell he had so long and firmly associated with the Ravens. It hits his nose as soon as he enters the room and he flinches inwardly, a chill settling in his bones despite the warmth of the office after coming in from the cold. 

“Kevin?” A woman at the front desk calls his name. She’s small and has a sweet look about her eyes and mouth that is so thoroughly un-Raven-like that he’s immediately put a little at ease.

“Yes, hi,” he greets awkwardly, shucking his gloves one-by-one and stuffing them into the pockets of his thick winter coat. 

“Doris will be right with you, sit down, sit down.” The woman urges him into one of the worn but comfortable stuffed chairs in the waiting area. Kevin glances around once settled, noting a few things about the room. Though the walls are a faint gray color, the decorations are bright orange, as they tend to be on PSU campus proper. There are orange flags for each of the colleges, and a navy and orange one for the law school. There are orange frames with photos of newspaper clippings of various alumni. On a brown shelf that might have been unassuming otherwise, rested all of the PSU paraphernalia from the past several decades. 

The newspaper clippings feature smiling, award-winning faces turned toward the camera almost in surprise. How very un-Raven-like indeed. In the Nest, winning was always assured. The photos were always cold and lacking in humility, a foregone conclusion—a self-fulfilling prophecy. There was no other outcome but success. 

“Kevin, nice to see you again. Let’s step into my office,” Ms. Doris (Kevin never can call her by her first name alone, it feels too disrespectful) calls from her doorway. 

“Nice to see you too,” Kevin says automatically, rising from his seat. 

In her office, he sits again on the single chair in front of her desk. She’s brought it, and all her furniture, from home because it matches nothing either in the other room or in other buildings around campus. The chairs are great big wooden rocking chairs with little knitted cushions tied to the seats. Kevin always feels odd sitting in Ms. Doris’ chairs—as though he’s shorter than usual. He’s never been sure if the set up is supposed to be disarming, but it has always left him entirely at the mercy of Ms. Doris and her industrious paper-rifling. 

“So, Kevin, today we’re going to address the portions of your Career Survey which you have left blank,” Ms. Doris says, already sunken into her seat and shuffling around with bits of paper. The pearl beads on her eyeglasses chain swing to-and-fro as her attention sweeps across her desk and back again before saying, “Ah, there it is.”

Ms. Doris pulls a seemingly random sheet from the jumbled stack on her desk that looks the same as the rest to Kevin.

“Yes, Kevin Day, projected graduation…” Ms. Doris mutters to herself looking down the bridge of her nose at the form. She holds the sheet a bit away from herself despite the reader's glasses perched on her nose. 

“Kevin, what are your goals after Exy, dear?” The question she is referring to, that he must have left blank, is “Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

The chill from earlier returns. Kevin blames it on the walk across campus in 20° weather. 

“After Exy?” Kevin echoes for lack of anything else to say. 

“Yes. The average career of a professional athlete rarely runs past his or her prime. You are quite extraordinary, Kevin, but life is…” Ms. Doris continues but Kevin does not hear. He nods along as best he can as she pulls out more slips of paper with information pertinent to job and career options based on his degree. 

His mind reels but he remains quiet. 

A few years ago the phrase “after Exy” was always followed by “practice,” or “nationals,” or “championships.” It wasn’t until he came to PSU that he realized, for these people, the outsiders, the  _ non-Ravens _ , there is an “after Exy” which exists to indicate life beyond the sport—without it. Kevin’s senses rebelled against the very concept on principle but a few people, in particular, have managed to inure him to it. At least, in a context that doesn’t necessarily, specifically include him. 

If he were still with the Ravens, the closest thing he’d get to career counseling would be playing Exy. Would be signing on to a Pro Exy team in front of flashing lights with an impersonal, assured smile. If he was still with the Ravens—If he was still that same person. If Riko were alive. If Neil and Andrew—If, if, if. 

* * *

_ Two years ago, Edgar Allan University, the Nest. _

_ Kevin carefully resets his duffel, arranging his gear, and folding his practice uniform before replacing it beneath his bed. He sits, and fiddles with his shoes for lack of anything else to do. In a moment of carelessness, he twists the comforter out of its tightly folded formation. The rustle of the sheets causes Jean to stir and Kevin ducks his head in silent apology.  _

_ At five a.m., the lights running along the perimeter of the room flicker on, casting the gray brick walls in dim white light. There are no windows. It takes Kevin a moment to adjust to the light before his eyes alight on Jean, curled up against the wall.  _

_ “I have to take you to the infirmary,” Kevin says, breaking the suffocating silence. They do everything together. _

_ “Don’t worry,” Jean mumbles, “You’ll get to practice on time.” _

_ Their beds are exactly opposite each other. The room shaped like a two-pronged bracket, their beds forming the arms and their desks meeting the door in the center of the room. There is no bathroom, but there is a sink, which is currently occupied by a hastily strewn first aid kid. Kevin rises to fix it with the newfound light.  _

_ Jean rises slowly. Kevin cannot bear to turn and look. What he hears is enough.  _

_ As Jean predicted, Kevin is at practice on time. The flood of relief is short-lived because right on its heels is the gaping maw of guilt. Kevin pushes it aside because...that’s what’s easy at the moment. He can see it in the eyes of all those around him: the fear that he’ll slip up again, that this time it’ll be any one of them to receive the business end of Riko’s racquet.  _

_ They do everything together, but the only pain they feel is their own.  _

_ He leads the pairs in a group warm-up before starting in on drills. The ease and instant familiarity of it put the rest of last night’s disaster from his mind. At eight a.m. the stadium lights flicker and everyone shuffles out in two tired, practiced rows. Kevin tails them, incomplete without Jean, which would have just thrown the rest off.  _

_ A few doctors check-in on the few Ravens with recurring injuries and the like. They pass out energy drinks and everyone downs them robotically. _

_ They shower together, they dress and replace their gear in their duffels before filing back to their rooms for thirty minutes of rest and a meal. Their meals are already waiting for them, their lock-less doors left ajar by the waitstaff. Jean is waiting in their dormitory along with a note.  _

_ They take their meal together and then walk to class. Before they leave, Jean slips Kevin the note to be read in the privacy of a bathroom stall. Preferably in either the theater basement or the history department. Both are across campus and in buildings old enough to have sporadic security.  _

_ Edgar Allan students have long learned to ignore their Exy team. They have their own worries.  _

_ Besides their pairs, there are no set groups. Still, in every class where there may be one pair, four more can also be depended on to attend. There to make up for any gaps in security. To keep each other in check. None of them would tolerate Kevin sneaking off today.  _

_ Finally, anxious to know what’s in the note, Kevin prods Jean in class, “So?” He doesn’t say anything else. _

_ “I knew you couldn’t wait,” Jean huffs, the left side of his face scrunches into a one-sided grimace at the pain caused by talking. The bruising wasn’t bad, but Kevin knows too well the throbbing pain of a well-placed swing of a racquet. Riko must have caught him right behind his ear, enough back that his dark hair hid the majority of the damage.  _

_ “I can’t read it,” Kevin presses, glancing at the Raven pair just a few feet in front of them. The lecture is slow-going, the ancient professor barely cares to look up from his notes long enough to take attendance. Jean turns fully to look Kevin in the eye as he often does when he wants to get a better read on him as if he can’t already read his mind. _

_ “You won’t,” Jean says placidly. His eyes are cloudy, not quite meeting Kevin’s. Kevin distantly wonders whether they gave him Tramadol or Vicodin.  _

_ “No,” Kevin says simply, forcing himself to watch as Jean shifts at a painfully slow pace to find a more comfortable position.  _

_ “Doesn’t matter,” Jean replies. Kevin’s breath catches. That means the results were positive. David Wymack, of the Palmetto State Foxes, is his father. Jean blinks slowly, watching Kevin struggle to come up with words that will make sense that will also not give him away.  _

_ “No?” Kevin repeats. _

_ Jean gets a glint in his eye and leans in, daring to say, “Well, what’s changed?” _

_ “Nothing,” is Kevin’s automatic reply. There is only one plan. There has never been another. He will be signed to a pro team by the end of the year and he will continue to play at Riko’s side. He will make the U.S. Court or he will die by Riko’s hand. Kevin’s hand rises involuntarily to the tattooed number on his cheek. He rips it away after a warning look from Jean. _

* * *

“-evin,” Neil says. He stands, waving his hand in front of Kevin’s unresponsive, blank face. “Kevin.”   
  


Kevin jumps when Neil places his hand on his shoulder. Neil removes his hand as though he has been burned. Andrew looks on with a glazed-over expression. His interest and investment is betrayed by the slight tilt of his head. His food lies untouched on his plate in favor of watching whatever is about to unfold. 

Neil looks back to Kevin, worried eyes bright in the light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the cafeteria. 

“Sit,” is all Kevin says once he regains himself. He grabs Neil by the hem of his t-shirt and implores him to relax with a tired glance. Kevin continues to watch him warily and Neil watches him right back. For a moment, Kevin thinks Neil is going to snark in that well-meaning, but provocative, way he has when he smells blood in the water. Kevin focuses the entire attention of his being on the sandwich on his plate, his hand dropping from Neil’s hem to his lap. Andrew, across from them, silently taps his knee against Kevin’s under the table and Kevin takes it for the comfort that it is. Andrew’s face betrays no signs of this tender-hearted impulse, however, he does continue to watch Kevin, looking for all the world bored.

Kevin resolutely eats his meal without tasting a single bite. They have practice later and it’s all Kevin can do just to root himself in this moment. For days he’s been balanced on a knife’s edge looking down a sheer cliff face on either side. One way leads to the only future he has ever known and the other leads home. He doesn’t know how much longer—

“Kev,” Neil says softly, close enough that Kevin can feel the rush of his breath when he exhales. Kevin turns again to Neil, gooseflesh erupting on the back of his neck. “Where did you go?”

Neil looks like he’s holding his breath. Like he already knows the answer but would like to draw the poison of it from Kevin’s wounds himself.

Kevin busies himself by counting the fine lines of the grain printed on the fake wooden tables. He traces them all the way to a particularly large knot, getting lost in the endless swirl of it. 

“If I were a Raven, I wouldn’t have to think of the future,” Kevin says without any real purpose other than to try to satisfy Neil’s question. He deserves that much from Kevin who had only caused Neil and Andrew trouble from the beginning. “What is there  _ after _ Exy?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to eat,” Andrew says with no real heat. He has in fact picked up his fork and is picking his way over the veggies that Kevin insisted upon more out of habit than anything. His distraction these past couple of days has been so immense he doubts if he would have noticed had Andrew chosen to replace his plate with one entirely of pastries. Kevin privately thinks it’s because Kevin’s  _ not _ paying attention that Andrew takes some care to eat well. It wakes up something in him that he hadn’t known had fallen dormant. His affection and care for Neil and Andrew had been lost to futile thoughts of the past, of memories better left to die. Still, his flashbacks come and go as they please, triggered by the most inane things. 

Kevin thinks of Ms. Doris, then, how he’d wandered away from her office a few days ago in a daze. Neil had found him sitting in front of the TV watching the static and hearing nothing. Alone in the dorm, Kevin had absently wondered where Jean must be, how he must be doing if he was having as much trouble adjusting as Kevin to life after Riko. 

That was the hardest part, Kevin had decided, being without his pair. Without Jean. Without his fellow Ravens. Those first few months among the Foxes (and meeting his father—though Wymack had no clue) had been like the world’s longest hangover. The Ravens’ doctors had taken care of him so long and so well that he hardly knew how to do it for himself. He didn’t know what deficiencies he had, or what foods he needed to eat, or how to wrap his swollen shoulder after a particularly harrowing practice. He had a headache almost every day and was still recovering from the surgery done on his hand so that every moment passed in some sort of pain or discomfort. He began to associate displeasure and harsh sensations with his new life, with freedom from Riko, and often wished himself  _ home _ . And then he’d remember that it was not home and he should never think of it that way. But, it was easier to say that than to believe it, in the back of his mind, he supposed that Edgar Allan would always be there. 

And that future he’d always been so certain of would always be the only path to take. What has changed, really? He may not play alongside Riko but someday he will be Court. And he will bring his pro team as much success as before—of that he must always be sure because without that promise...Kevin couldn’t be sure of anything.

Kevin sighs softly, frustrated with his inability to reconcile any of this, let alone say it out loud. Neil and Andrew have always had this effortless, almost careless, ease of words with each other. They almost always know the other’s meaning and are quick on the uptake of subtle hints. Kevin struggles enough trying to make clear his own meanings. He wants and wants and wants so desperately to be known and is afraid that it’s not possible. For how can a person who has been no one for so long ever truly know themselves except in constant reference to the void they had been before. 

Before Kevin realizes it, he, Neil, and Andrew are walking out of the cafeteria. He barely remembers eating. Andrew takes his hand in a rare display of open affection. Kevin does not look at Andrew because he knows Andrew will not be looking at him. Neil is on Kevin’s other side, close but not quite touching, and he feels...snug. Not trapped or claustrophobic as he might once have been. 

Later, when they arrive at the auditorium for practice, Neil is still watching him. Kevin ignores him in favor of changing out and getting onto the court as fast as possible. Dan leads up practice, beginning with a couple of drills. Kevin throws himself into it as usual, but the movements are all by rote. It leaves his mind too empty—room enough for thoughts he’d rather not face. When Dan calls for a water break he actually sits down and removes his helmet. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, willing with all his being that no one would ask him what’s wrong. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


_ “Keep going,” Jean hisses, gripping Kevin by the shoulder pad and urging him onward. They’re in the middle of a training assessment week (better known as Hell Week) and Kevin is lagging behind.  _

_ His other teammates keep glancing back at him as he struggles to keep pace. Five miles isn’t a big ask and normally Kevin would think he could do it in his sleep. But he can’t get enough air in his lungs. He feels like if he doesn’t slow down his legs will give out and his heart will beat out of his chest like a big, bloody stop sign.  _

_ “I can’t,” Kevin says, barely audible over the sound of drumming footsteps on the pavement.  _

_ “Yes. You. Can,” Jean growls. He grips Kevin, firmly this time, by the shoulder and forces him to keep pace. If they didn’t pull ahead now it wouldn’t go unnoticed. The Master presides over these sorts of things and his disappointed face would meet Kevin at the finish line. Still worse, his son would be there too, silently gloating over his victory. _

_ This assessment is supposed to be a part of a special test, more of a contest really, between Riko and Kevin. Just a few weeks ago, the NCAA made highly publicized remarks about Kevin Day’s potential. And how it was being stifled by the Moriyama’s, in a show of blatant nepotism, in order that Riko continues to take the top spot.  _

_ Riko and Kevin had gotten into a huge blow-out fight over it.  _

Riko paced in the little space the locker room afforded. 

“Imbeciles. They think they can get away with such obviously libelous falsehoods just because of the rules of the free press,” Riko had spat in that ridiculously formal way he had when he wanted to be taken seriously. “Who’s letting them tell these  _ lies _ ?”

“Is it impossible…” Kevin starts, but his nerve deserts him. He crosses his arms tightly, closing his hands into fists and letting his fingernails bite into his palms.

“And that little jab about favoritism, as if the Master would ever entertain the idea...God forbid he ever deign to call  _ me _ a favorite. _ , _ ” Riko plows on, seemingly not having heard Kevin’s false-start. 

“Nepotism,” Kevin corrects faintly. He stares at the floor, wishing endlessly for this conversation to be over so that he can return to Jean. Return to that letter burning a hole in his copy of  _ The History of the Ancient World _ . 

“Whatever it was, it isn’t true. I’ve so long been the linchpin of this institution the world calls Exy, there is no one else who can take my place,” Riko says so self-assuredly that it begins to grate on Kevin. But, he is used to biting his tongue with Riko. They may have grown up brothers, but they have never been equals—not in the Master’s eyes and certainly not in Riko’s. Even if his stats told another story, Riko would not—could not—accept that Kevin can and has surpassed him in the realm of Exy. 

Kevin doesn’t know what comes over him. In a rare impulse of bravery ( _ stupidity _ ), he opens his mouth to counter Riko’s words, “What if there was? Is it so impossible?”

“Who, then, do you think is better than me?” Riko asks. He’s stopped his pacing and stands stock still in front of Kevin to consider him. He has one arm crossed across his chest, supporting his right elbow and in his free hand, his phone rests carelessly in his palm face-up. He tilts his chin slightly downward, only deigning to raise his eyes to challenge Kevin’s words from beneath dark, angled brows. The downward quirk of his mouth sets off alarm bells in Kevin’s head. 

“I’ve worked very hard to be here,”  _ just as hard as you _ , “I am constantly benched in favor of you,”  _ and the Master takes every chance to parade you out in front of scouts, leaving me by the wayside _ . Kevin takes a steadying breath. “It’s difficult to see why the NCAA  _ wouldn’t _ have something to say about it.”

“Is that what you think?” Riko’s question is rhetorical. Kevin remains quiet. He had tread as carefully as he could but opening his mouth at all was imbecilic. He blamed Jean’s absence. He’d be more cautious if he had someone to protect other than himself. There was nothing Riko could do to him in the middle of the season in their freshman year that wouldn’t be suspicious after that article. It made him a little invincible or at least a little less afraid of dying. 

“Well, then, let’s see shall we?” Riko smiled and Kevin’s inner alarm bells reached a fever pitch. 

Kevin shakes his head, planning to pass off his comments as merely harmless suppositions. Certainly not his suppositions, but ones made on his behalf by a nebulous third-party that Riko could not take aim at with any satisfaction.

“No, no, you’re right. You have been at my side a long time.” Riko shrugs one shoulder. “I suppose I must have rubbed off on you at least a little.” 

The admission wasn’t to Kevin’s credit, that much was apparent. Riko wasn’t conceding anything, he was laying an officious, and elaborate trap.

“I don’t think you’ve understood me—” Kevin tries but the instant the words leave his mouth Riko rushes him. Kevin doesn’t flinch away, not because he’s brave or defiant but because that type of movement was trained out of him. He would stand there and take any abuse from the Moriyama’s, if not gladly, then at least willingly. Flinching would only make it worse.

Kevin ends up moving anyway because Riko doesn’t stop when they’re toe-to-toe, he keeps moving, pushing Kevin up against the closed locker doors. The cold metal digs into his back but the sensation is so low on his list of priorities that it hardly registers.

“This is more than a difference of opinion. I take it as a direct attack. If you think you can beat me, then I’d like to see you try,” Riko says, all venom, his breathing harsh. 

Kevin nods slightly but doesn’t dare to make any other move. Eventually, Riko backs off once he’s satisfied that Kevin is scared enough. 

_ A few weeks later and Kevin is still eating his words. He’d been overconfident if that was at all possible, and now that the day of judgment had arrived he’d been found wanting.  _

_ Kevin wrenches his shoulder from Jean’s hold and peels off from the group. He retches into the bushes just off the beaten path and tries to catch his breath. Even if he sprinted all the way to the finish he knows that it’s already over. He contemplates, for half a second, running away. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that idea too long. Jean would be punished grievously for his error. And Kevin would be punished also as soon as security caught up with him. _

_ There is no other way, no other future, no other outcome. He doesn’t know why he expected anything else. _

_ Later, in the confines of his own dormitory, he stares at the ceiling unfeelingly. His failure had put to rights a lot of his scattered thoughts. No more time could be spared to even the idea of escape when he apparently had so much to make up for on the court. The letter tucked away in his textbook and the test results, now disposed of but burned on the insides of his eyelids entreated him to one last try. One last time.  _

_ But, he’s tired. He’s so tired. He’d already told Jean that he wouldn’t pursue this further. Told him weeks ago, during that lecture surrounded by Raven eyes watching him closely for any sign of cracking. The fact that he’d let the little competition between him and Riko rekindle any kind of hope was just a testament to his continued erosion of self. _

“Always so painfully indecisive, you wouldn’t last a day out in the real world,” Riko’s voice taunts, “Besides, here with us you’ll have the only future someone like you can have.”

_ A knock at his door jolts him from his thoughts. He sighs unhappily, knowing that visitors after 8 p.m. were strictly prohibited. It could only be one person, one exception to the rule. _

_ “Hey, how’re you feeling,” Riko says, walking into the room as though he owns the place. And in many ways, Kevin supposes, he does. He owns Exy, Evermore, and all its players. _

_ Kevin doesn’t answer because it’s not a question. Instead, he nods, keeping his eyes carefully downcast in as much a show of acquiescence as avoidance. Now sitting up, he twists his fingers into his pillow and draws it across his lap for something to do with his hands. _

_ “I brought you this, you know, for electrolytes,” Riko offers him a bright red bottle—an energy drink. There’s a secret pursing the corner of his mouth like he’s eaten a sour candy. He’s trying not to smile. Or smirk. Kevin glances from his face to the proffered energy drink before, at last, taking it. He doesn’t open it, instead sliding it onto his desk silently.  _

_ It’s just like the energy drinks the doctors hand out after a game or practice. There’s nothing different about it except the fact that it’s now passing directly from Riko’s hand to Kevin’s. It’s the same clear plastic, the same red almost-radioactive liquid, and the same silver label. But, Riko owns everything. This is his school, his auditorium, his doctors.  _

_ Kevin meets Riko’s eye for the first time since he entered the room. In an instant, he knows exactly what Riko has wanted him to by coming to see him personally after so many days of silence between them. Kevin can imagine it. Riko’s approaching the doctor with a wicked smile, maybe a bribe, or maybe the doctor just obeyed because that is what she has been paid to do. The energy drinks were such an innocuous object in Kevin’s mind. Everyone, even Riko, drank them.  _

_ For weeks, since their argument and the resulting challenge, Kevin had been dosed with he didn’t know what after every practice and after every game. He felt for a moment as though he might be sick but he valiantly swallows it down, not wanting to give Riko the satisfaction of his indignation.  _

_ Riko, having accomplished what he set out to do, leaves. _

* * *

After practice, Kevin eases himself into the ice bath, half-holding his breath. The others follow suit, climbing maybe a little less reluctantly. It’s one of those things that Kevin avoids until the last possible minute but then ends up enjoying so much he can’t remember why he’d been so reluctant in the first place. Nothing like freezing cold water to shock him back to the present. 

Next to him, Matt let out a gusty sigh, his arms propped up on either side of the bath.

“Dude,” Matt says. When he doesn’t seem to have a follow-up to that Kevin relaxes and leans his head back. 

“We did this at Evermore,” Kevin says and he feels a few pairs of eyes open. Andrew, who’s still gritting his teeth against the cold, doesn’t open his eyes. But, it’s plain to Kevin that he has everyone’s ears, at least. “Cheapest form of anti-inflammatory.”

“Yeah?” Matt replies, tipping his head to the side to peer up at Kevin. He nods silently cupping his hand around a handful of ice and gripping tight until his fingers went numb.

“Jean always says,” Renee begins quietly, hesitant. But, after she catches Kevin’s eye, continues, “That, yes, it was...horrible. But, what made it worse was how well they cared for you.”

Kevin sucks in a sharp, quiet breath. He hadn’t heard from Jean in a few months. They’d thought it best to make a clean break, otherwise, they’d fall back into the pattern. That way would always lead them back to the Nest and they didn’t ever want to go back. So, maybe that also meant they couldn’t be friends out here in the  _ real world _ . They still talk but they keep it to a minimum. They each learned to live without the other but the damage was done...they were still  _ they _ . Them, us, we. 

He feels himself losing focus, losing his grip, so he dunks his head under the ice water for a moment. When he returns to the surface, he takes a gasping breath and swipes a hand over his soaked hair in a haphazard attempt to get it out of his face. The room had fallen silent. Kevin had nothing else to say. He’s not sure why he brought it up at all except that he’s been full up of these memories for the past few years and they had nowhere else to go.

“A doctor there, I don’t remember her name, she stitched me up,”  _ you know after one of the many beatings I took,  _ “It’s the one scar from Evermore I don’t mind,” says Neil. Kevin flicks his eyes up to find Neil sheepishly tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. He removes it up to the shoulder to reveal a thin white scar carved into his arm. Kevin doesn’t know how many times he’d seen that mark, how many times he’d been  _ allowed _ to see it, without knowing its origin. Among all the marks on Neil’s body, it’s one Kevin had assumed he’d received from his father.

Riko had blades too, though.

Later, back at the dorm, Kevin is just out of the shower when he finds Neil on his bed. 

Andrew is there too, but instead of the bed, he’s sitting at Kevin’s desk. He watches with a morose expression that is entirely put-upon. 

“Yes or no?” Neil asks, watchful.

Kevin hesitates, but answers, “Yes,” because he doesn’t want them to leave.

Only then does Andrew begin making his way to the bed. He shucks his shoes and tosses his winter coat onto the back of Kevin’s desk chair. Neil waits patiently for Andrew to situate himself against the wall, facing the door. Neil tucks in after him, making room for Kevin next to him. Kevin lies down on his back. He feels awkward for a second until Neil manipulates him how he wants him. He tucks Kevin up against his chest, throwing an arm flat across Kevin’s stomach. Kevin relaxes minutely into the warmth. A moment later, he feels Andrew’s arm match Neil’s and hook on the other side of Kevin’s ribcage. 

Kevin remains slightly stiff until Andrew says, “Stop thinking so much,” and then Kevin gets tenser. 

He feels more than sees Neil shift, turning to Andrew and admonishing him quietly. 

Kevin knows that Neil is trying to comfort him in his own way, to say nothing of his less than affectionate upbringing. Usually, Neil preferred to be tucked up against Kevin’s chest, surrounded on both sides by him and Andrew. This small sacrifice on his part did not go unnoticed. Kevin burns brightly with it, feeling the best he has in a while. 

It emboldens him enough to say, “That doctor who stitched you up was Marwani, right?”

A pause of surprise, then, “Yeah, that was her.” Neil has turned back to him now. He rests his head over Kevin’s heart.

“She was one of the good ones,” Kevin admits into the still air of the dorm. After the ice bath, it’s nice and warm. It doesn’t hurt that he also has Neil and Andrew tucked up in bed with him.

“Yeah?” Neil answers encouragingly, pressing his palm flat over Kevin’s chest, fingers brushing along his clavicle absentmindedly.

Kevin nods, unsure of how to follow that up with what he wants to say.

“There were bad ones?” Andrew asks, unsurprised, but smoothing the way for Kevin to be understood.

“His name was Dr. Kremer. He’s gone now, but,” Kevin answers slowly. 

“But?” Neil prods, sitting up slightly to look into Kevin’s eyes. Kevin is almost always startled by the violence that lives in Neil’s gaze. He can never tell if it’s because of the life Neil lived or if volatility is just in his nature. 

“But, before he left, Riko paid him to poison me,” Kevin says. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a confession even though Kevin’s done nothing wrong. Andrew’s hand had long abandoned Kevin’s side in favor of sitting up himself. He looks worse for wear like might not be getting enough sleep. Kevin wouldn’t know, it seems like all he does besides Exy and class is sleep lately. He can’t have flashbacks when he sleeps because he never dreams. 

“Poison?” Andrew prompts.

Kevin shrugs, “It was only for a time. Non-lethal, obviously. Riko wanted to prove to the Mas— to Tetsuji that he was the superior player.”

“He cheated,” Neil surmises, sounding furious on Kevin’s behalf.

“He ruined me,” Kevin says, feeling nothing. “And that was before the  _ skiing accident _ .”

Andrew grumbles, turning to lie on his back with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s bare-armed and his jaw is locked in a menacing scowl. He doesn’t say anything but everything about his posture screams,  _ if he was alive, I’d kill him. _

Kevin laughs softly at the sight even though none of this is even the slightest bit funny. He curls his arm tighter around Neil and then more soberly says, “I don’t know anything except how to be ruined apparently. I can’t let it go, I can’t see anything beyond Exy.”

The three lapse into silence for a while after that. Kevin isn’t fishing for reassurance, and if he was, these two weren’t his first choice for that anyway. But, he’s still somehow comforted. Here, in a warm bed, in a room above ground and in a place without fear shrouding everything he is all at once sure that he’ll never be happier. If only he could move forward. Put Edgar Allan behind him...and eventually Exy too. 

“Maybe it’s not Exy  _ or _ everything else,” Neil says at last, slow and deliberate about his words, “Maybe there’s an in-between.”

“In-between what?” Kevin asks, brow furrowing. Neil plops back down against Kevin’s chest and Kevin idly strokes his fingers through Neil’s curls. Andrew rolls onto his side again, back to the wall, and leans his forehead against Kevin’s shoulder. Kevin hopes Andrew can fall asleep comfortably, not daring to move lest he disturbs him. 

“You know—” Neil’s words are interrupted by a huge yawn, “—like a balance. Life can’t be  _ all  _ about Exy.” Neil sounds so sure.

“What’s this, Junkie? Are you saying Exy is not the end all be all?” Andrew drawls, voice muffled. “Someone write this down: Neil Josten says something reasonable for the first time in his life.”

“I do not want to hear anything from you, ‘Mr. I-Can’t-Be-Bothered-To-Plan-For-Anything,” Neil bites back but it carries no venom. A glance down reveals the slight smile forming on his face where it’s tucked against Kevin. 

He hears Andrew huff a quiet laugh. Kevin’s eyelids begin drooping perilously. He thinks of those forms he has yet to fill out. He’ll have to go and see Ms. Doris again. See about this  _ in-between _ . He thinks the idea might have some merit. And even if he doesn’t figure it out right away, at least he’s here, with Andrew, with Neil, with the Foxes. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. 

For the first time, he realizes that an uncertain future could also be the beginning of a life that he chooses.


End file.
